Hold On
by SinfullySimple
Summary: When Race disappears for three weeks after kissing Spot, everyone starts to worry. Spit finally decides to go and talk to Jack to see if he had seen him. On his way home to Brooklyn he sees a familiar face standing on the top railing. Sprace! Bad description, but lots of Hurt!Race


**Hello darlings! Yes! Can you belive that I'm back so soon!? I have been working on this story for about three days, and the final word count was over 4,500 words! Can you belive that? Okay, i am very happy with this story, and i want to thank SomedayonBroadway for inspiration and support!**

 **Okay! Enough talk! I sadly don't own Newsies! enjoy!**

* * *

 **Brooklyn Bridge, Brooklyn, New York 1897**

Spot sighed tiredly as he made his way down the Brooklyn bridge, walking back from Manhattan. He had made the trip over that day when Racetrack didn't show up at Sheepshead to sell for almost two weeks in a row. Every day for almost four years the kid had shown up, taken up his spot inside by the stands, and did his duty. Even if he was sick, or still hurt' from a soakin' from the Delancey brothers. Just like how Spot had shown up for almost eight years and would take up his place right outside the entrance.

So sue him if he was worried.

Sadly, Kelly said that he had been coming back to the lodging house late, and was out on the streets before most of them got to the distribution center. He could confirm that he was coming back, as his brother's bed was messy every morning from when Crutchie made it every evening. Plus some of the other boys had said that they either heard or saw him when he came back, his loud steps having woke them. Kelly said that he had been trying desperately to catch the kid so that he could talk him for days, but just couldn't seem to manage it. He had even stayed up all night the day before in hope to just caught a glimpse of him, but still haven't managed to catch to the kid.

Crutchie had apparently been worried sick about his older brother as well. Haven resorted to trying to walk all the way to Sheepshead one day in hopes of caughting him. All the good it would have done. But Specs had found him less than halfway there in an alley not far from his selling spot. The gimp boy had been sitting on the ground behind an old crate, almost in tears, and clutching his bad leg.

"I just want my brother back," he had cried into Jack's chest when Specs had brought him back.

"Where do you think he's sellin' then?" Spot had asked Jack. "He can't go no two weeks withou' sellin papes. Nobody can,"

Jack just sighed and shook his head. "I don' know...I'se checked all his normal spots. He just ain' there,"

Spot had eventually thanked him, told him that Brooklyn would be on the lookout for him and headed towards home. Unfortunately, the sun was already halfway set when he left the other newsies' house and he had found himself walking in the dark not far into his journey. But it wasn't all bad. The time to himself with minimal people on the street had given him much needed time to think. Even though he found himself going in circles once again.

Two weeks ago, right before Race seemed to cease to exist, he had pulled Spot into an alley behind the racetracks. It was the end of the day, and Spot was looking forward to his bed, but he had indulged his friend and had followed him. He never expected for Race to push him up against a wall and kiss him. He didn't expect how soft the other boy's lips would be, or how good his own hands felt in his friends blond curls. He didn't expect to kiss back, and find himself loving every second of it. But what he expected least was for Race to pull back suddenly and freak out, apologizing over and over, tears coming to his pure blue eyes, and then taking off down the alley and out of site before Spot even had a chance to utter a syllable. Then he didn't return. For weeks.

But it was what had happened, and the more he thought about it, putting others opinions aside, and the fact that they could be killed for it, he genuinely liked Race. No...no, he loved Race. He had been trying to ignore it for years, putting up a front of anyonence when he felt like they were getting to close, not ever being able to truly admit to himself that he loved the Italian boy. But...he did.

He loved the way he always smelled of cigars, newspapers, and something that was distinctly _Race_. He loved the little smirk that he would get when they were playing cards and he knew he had won. He loved the spark of life in his eyes that never seemed to fade, even through everything. He loved the freckles that dotted his skin everywhere, and the ones that went across the bridge of his nose. He loved his dirty blond curls that were always plastered to his head from his hat. He loved his smart mouth, and how he always had a witty comeback for everything anyone said, and how protective he was of his brothers. He would do anything for them, even go to the Refuge, facing his worst fear head on, just to spare his brothers from it, or from starvin' or freezen'. He just loved….Race. The bottom line, the simplest explanation was just...that. Love.

He sighed again and took a look around, making sure that no one was following him, and that he wasn't about to run into anybody. But then something caught his eye. Further down, about quarter of the way on the bridge from the Brooklyn side, a few feet from a street lamp, was a figure. It was definitely a person, a young one, by the stature, but they were standing up on the railing.

Spot was running before he could even process what he was doing. As he got closer and closer the boy continued to climb up the railing until he was on the top of it. Keeping himself steady by holding onto the suspension all Spot could think was how he couldn't go through this again. He couldn't lose another boy this way. They didn't deserve it. He racked his brain trying to think of who it could be, going through the past few weeks to make sure he hadn't neglected or ignored any of his boys. But he couldn't think of anyone. Then Spot slowly made out the features of the boy and his whole world seemed to slow down until everything was just barely moving.

He could see the boy's curly blond hair on his head, the white bag with unsold newspapers laying on the ground behind him, and a cigar on top of that, laying discarded. there was a hat beside the small pile, and he could make out the freckled skin, and the barely visible shine on his face that signaled tears. He saw the boy slowly turn in his direction as he heard the running footsteps, and Spot pushed himself to go faster. He had to get there. He had to. He couldn't let him do it. He couldn't lose him.

Then they locked eyes. He could make out the pure, deep, amazing blue eyes that he loved so much. The eyes that were normally filled with so much joy, and the unique spark of life that he had only seen in one person. But they were lifeless now. Nothing but pain and sorrow. Numb to the world around him, and all Spot could think about at the moment was reaching him. He had to get to him. He had to stop him. Make him stop.

The boy he had finally admitted to loving was standing not far from him. On the top railing of the Brooklyn bridge. Three hundred feet from the river below. From the water that would feel like concrete. He couldn't let him do it. He couldn't let him do that to his brothers. To himself.

"Anthony!" He barely realized that he had yelled as time came crashing back on the world. The Italian gave him one last, sad, empty smirk before he let go of the suspension cord.

Spot frantically rushed forward, slamming his torso into the railing, and reaching out his arms. For a moment all he felt was air and he couldn't breath. Then, his arms wrapped around something solid and he grabbed tight before hauling backwards, struggling not to go over the edge as well. He heard someone cry out vaguely, but he could only focus on getting the body in his arms back over the railing. Back onto solid ground. Safe.

Then, finally, with one last pull backwards the weight of the fourteen year old was on top of him, and they crashed to the ground. Spot made sure that he fell first, making Racer land on top of him. He could feel his arms get scraped by the hard ground and the little pieces of glass and rock, but he paid no mind to it, all of his attention going to the now sobbing boy he held tightly around the waist.

"No!" He screamed. "Let me go! Let me go! I can't do it anymore! Just let me go!" He begged desperately as he tried in vain to get out of Spot's grasp. But the older boy just help on tighter. He slowly, as to not startle the other boy, or to loose grip of him, maneuvered them so that Spot was sitting up, hugging Race to his chest.

"Racer! It's me! It's Spot! Just calm down!" He yelled, trying to get the boy to hear him. He had to hear him. He had to get through to him.

"Just let me go!" Race sobbed out, still desperately trying to get out of Spot's embrace. "I can't do it anymore! I'm not worth the trouble! Oh mio dio, lasciami morire!"(1) the boy reverted back to his native language.

Spot realized that he was crying as his vision blurred slightly. "Please Anthony," He whispered into the other boy's ear. "It's me. It's Sean. You's okay. I love you. Please just listen," But his words fell on deaf ears. Spot looked around frantically, searching for someone who could help him. Then he saw Ashes. One of his own boys, out way past curfew, but at the moment Spot could care less. "Ashes!" He called. "Get over he'r!" Then he boy in his arms made use of his distraction, elbowing him in the stomach and scrambling back over the the edge, starting to climb the railing once more.

"Dio perdonami per i miei peccati. Che i miei fratelli sappiano che li amo, ma non lasciare che mi piangono. Non sono degno,"(2) The boy rambled, but before his foot could even touch the top rail he was pulled back down and once again pinned to the Brooklyn leader's chest. This time though, Spot made sure to pin Race's arms to his sides. "No!" The boy sobbed. "Perché non mi lascerai andare?"(3)

"Anthony Higgins you listen to me right now,"Spot said lowly into his ear as the kid continued to struggle. At this point all Spot may have to do was wait until he passed out. The boy was sobbing and gasping for air like a dying man. Like there could never be enough air in the world, but also like every breath he took pained him.

"Kid, you are worth it. You'se worth more than every goddamn thing in this world. More than anything, ya hear me? But ya gotta breath kid. You'se gotta breath," He tried desperately to keep his voice level, but he highly doubt it worked. But as Ashes came up to them he had to focus on another matter.

"Wow. Spot, w'as ya doin'?" He asked. His eyes locked on the sobbing Italian in his leader's arms. Said boy had finally given up trying to escape the hold and had simply curled himself into the tightest ball he could, hiding his face in his knees.

"Go an' get Jack Kelly, Ashes!" Spot snapped. When the boy just looked at him he made himself take a deep breath. "I swares to god Ashes! Go an' get Jack Kelly damn you! I will forgets about you bein' out past curfew! Just run there an' run back! No stopin' for anything! You'se don't take no for an answer! You gots me?" The younger boy nodded quickly and raced off in the direction of Manhattan and Spot prayed that he would do as he was told for once.

Then he looked down at the sobbing boy again. "Is okay Racer. Is okay Tony. Ashes is gonna go and' get Jackie boy. Everythin' is gonna be okays," But the boys head shot up at the mention of his big brothers name and he shook his head desperately.

"No," he cried. "No, don' get Jack. Don' wake h'm up. No no no! Per favore! Non può vedermi in questo modo! Lui non può sapere!"(4) The boy slipped back into his native tongue.

"Anthony, I can't understand ya when you'se speak like that. I'se sorry, but I can't," He boy didn't respond, but he did stop talking taking to just sobbing once more. Spot could only hold him close and murmur quiet words of assurance and sweet nothings to him as he prayed to get through to the boy, and that Ashes would be back soon.

* * *

Jack woke up to loud banging on the door to the lodge house. He quickly got up and rushed to the door. He really didn't need the littles being woken up. He didn't know what time it was exactly, but the sun wasn't up and the moon hadn't even reached the halfway point in the sky. Hen he opened the door though he was very confused.

A boy, no older than ten was standing on the stoop. He had a thin jacket wrapped around his shoulders, but Jack could tell it was doing nothing to keep out the chilly wind of the night. It was the exact reason he had chosen to sleep inside that night. By the red shirt though, and his hat, the boy was a newsie, most likely from Brooklyn.

"Whatd'a want kid?" Jack asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Spot wants ya," the kid replied, his chest heaving as he sucked in air. He looked like he had just run a marathon.

"Well he c'n wait till mornin'" Jack replied before moving to close the door. But the boy stopped him, grabbing his arm desperately. "He said not ta take no f'r an answer . Hes on da Brooklyn bridge an' hes got a boy in his arms! An' da boy was cryin'!"

Jack's mind automatically went to Race, who he still hadn't seen, and whos bed was still made. Then he made his decision. "A'right. Let me get my coat, okay kid? Then we'll go," the boy simply nodded. So Jack went back inside and grabbed the only coat he owned, then stopped by Crutchie's bed as he passed. Gently shaking the boy he waited till his eyes were open.

"Jack?" The kid mumbled tiredly.

"Ya kid. Is just me. I'se goin' ta get Racer back, okay? I'se be back soon," Crutchie nodded.

"I'll watch the others," He said simply. Jack nodded and walked back to the door and out into the cold night air.

"Lead the way," He said to the kid, and then they took off running.

* * *

Spot sighed as Race finally passed out. Weather it was from hyperventilating or from exhaustion, he would never know, but he was just thankful. Ashes had been gone almost an hour,and should be back at any point. But Spot only vaguely registered that. All he could see was the sluggishly bleeding wounds on Race's arm. All of them thin lines in a row on the inside of both his arms. He vaguely realized that he was crying again, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he could think about were the what ifs.

What if he hadn't gone to talk to Jack?

What if he had left earlier? Or later?

What if he had looked harder for Race?

What if he had tried harder to comfort him after the kiss?

What if he had been there for him more?

What if he had seen the signs?

What if. What if. What if. What if.

It was driving him mad. He knew that he couldn't have done anything differently, and that it wasn't his fault, but he couldn't help but go back to the past. He couldn't help replaying seniors in his head, or thinking that if he had just done this. He couldn't stop because if he stopped, if he truly acknowledged what had happened- what was happening, he was sure that he would go insane. That his sanity would just vanish like a ghost. So he continued to reply everything in his mind. Not stopping his littenies of "Its okays"s and "You matter"s and "I love you"s. The he heard it. Footsteps. Running footsteps, and as he looked behind him he could start to make out the two figures of the people he had been waiting for.

"Racetrack!" That was Jack his mind registered numbly. Ashes had listened. He had done his job. Spot almost laughed, giddly that something had gone right tonight, and too numb to everything else to care.

"Sean?" Race called out from where his face was buried in the older boy's neck. The small voice was full of panic and laced with fear. Fear that his friend wouldn't be there. Fear that he would hate him…

"I'se right here," He assured. "I'se right here, and I'se not going no where," The small sob that escaped Race's lips once more broke Spot's heart in two. But he couldn't dwell on it long as Jack Kelly slid down to the ground beside them.

"Race? Racer, I'se here. Can ya hear me?" The fifteen year old practically begged. But the response he got was not the one he was evidently expecting.

"No!" Race said, seeming to try and burrow further into Spot. "No! Ho detto di non prenderlo! Ho detto no! Non merito questo! Non sono degno!"(5)

"Race!" Spot said, trying to get the boys attention and not look at the devastated look on Kelly's face. "Race!" When he still didn't respond Spot signed. "Anthony! I can't understands ya when you'se talkin' like dat!" He tried to reason. But his words fell on deaf ears once more.

Jack looked at him and then up to Spot. "Whad' ya do to 'im Colon?" He asked, venom lacing his voice. Spot just stared at him, not comprehending the words for a moment. "I said-"

"I heard ya Kelly!" Spot snapped. Race flinched in his arms and curled further into himself, still mumbling in his native language. "I'se didn't do nothing ta him but save his damn life!" He said in a quieter voice trying to not startle Race again. The color drained from his face and Spot watched as his eyes locked onto the boy in his arms.

"Whad' do you mean?" He asked, quietly. Spot glanced over to Ashes and jerked his head in the direction of Brooklyn.

"Get home kid, before you'se really in trouble," He said. The boy hestated, but then went off at a jog back towards Brooklyn. Once Spot was sure he was gone he turned back to the situation on hand. Realizing that his back was hurting from keeping both him and Race up, he gently turned and scooted back so that his back was against the railing of the bridge. He was pretty sure that Race wouldn't try to do anything stupid at this point.

When he moved Race clenched tighter onto his shirt and cried out. Spot just gently shushed him and ran his fingers through the blond curls on the top of his head. He could tell that cowboy was staring at him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"What happened, Spot?" He asked once more.

"I was walkn' home from seeing you'se and I found 'im…" He took a deep breath. "I'se found him on the top railin', Jack…" He looked down and held onto Race a little tighter, trying to reassure himself that he was still there. "He tried ta jump...But I'se caught 'im in time...pulled 'im back over the edge,"

Jack just sat there, stunned. "You mean he….He tried to…"

"Yeah Jack...Yeah he did…" Spot said sadly, finally looking up at the boy he considered a brother. He looked absolutely devastated. Tears were slowly making him way down his face, and his eyes were locked on Race, who had finally calmed down once more.

Then he gestured out, indicating Race. "May I? Please?" He asked brokenly. Spot hesitated then nodded.

"Racer...You'se bro'da wants to see you," He said, gently nudging the boy. But Race just whimpered and grasped Spot's shirt tighter, if that was even possible. "C'mon Race…"

"Racer," Jack said suddenly. "Race, I promise I'se ain't mad at ya. Oh god...Race...I just need ya ta come back ta me baby brother. Just...come back...Please?"

For the first time since the whole thing started Race unburied his head and looked up at his older brother. His eyes were sunken in, a testament to how much sleep he had been getting, and they were surrounded by redness. His face was soaked with tears that still occasionally made their way down his face, and his blue eyes were full of hopelessness.

"Jack?" His voice broke on his big brothers name. He couldn't figure out what to do. He couldn't fathom why Jack would want to see him. He wasn't worth walking an hour just to see. He wasn't worth worrying over, or loving...he was useless. A stupid, useless boy worth nothing more than the dirt on the ground.

"Racer, com' here!' Jack said desperately, and finally, Race moved out of Spot's arms and into Jack's, starting to cry once more as his brother held him. Jack hugged him to himself and buried his face in his younger brother's hair. "I can't believe I almost ost ya kid…" He said softly. Then he looked up at Spot. "Thankyou, Spot...I owe ya everything,"

Spot shook his head. "Ya don' owe me nothin' Kelly," He said, slowly standing up. "Jus' promise me ya keep an eye on 'im? Don't let 'im be alone," Jack nodded before standing with his brother in his arms, carrying him bride style. "Thankyou Spot," He said one last time before turning and walking back towards Manhattan. Spot watched them go until he couldn't see them anymore before resolving himself to a night of no sleep. Instead he slowly started walking towards Brooklyn, not really having a destination in mind. He didn't have much on his mind at the moment. He was just...there.

* * *

Three days later, right as Spot was thinking of giving up on selling that day and walking over to 'Hattan, a tall boy with a hat stuck on his head and a cigar in his mouth came around the corner to the racetracks. He slowly walked up to Spot, a cocky smile on his face and a carefree swagger in his stance. But, Spot noticed, it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Heya Spottie," he called as he came up to him. But Spot didn't respond, he simply grabbed the other boys arm and dragged him into the alley next to the tracks. The same alley that they had been in almost a month ago.

"Hey, hey! Wha'd ya think you'se doing?" Race yelled at him as Spot pushed him up against the wall.

Spot looked at him. Really and truly looked at him, and Race knew what he would find. The bandages on both his forearms. The dark circles around his eyes. If you lifted up his shirt, he would see the dark bruises on his side from where Spot had hauled him up and over the railing, and if you looked closely you could see in his eyes that he was exhausted. But not just tired, utterly and soul encompassing drained. They were the eyes of a dead man walking.

"Race," Spot started, but stopped, not knowing what to say. Eventually he just settled on, "Are you okay?"

Race just stared at him. Then he shook his head and took the cigar out of his mouth, his smile gone. "We got papes ta sell," he said, going to pass by Spot. But the older boy stopped him and pushed him back against the wall. "What the hell Spot?!" He yelled. "We gots papes ta sell! What are ya doin'?"

"I don' know Racer!" Spot yelled suddenly. "You-you...ya kissed me an' then just ran off! Then da next time I sees ya you're tryin' ta jump off the goddamn bridge! Then this mornin', afta' three days I might add, ya just show up actin' like nothin' ever happened! You left me worried sick for three weeks before that, an' ya can't even talk about it! I caught you as ya jumped over a railin'! I held ya as you begged me ta let you just kill yourself! I pulled you back from the edge an promised ya that I wouldn't let go as ya told me that ya deserved ta die! I can't jus' let this go Race! I...I...damn it!" He turned around, taking a deep breath and wiping the tears off his face that had started to fall without his permission.

"Spot…" Race started, but stopped.

"I love ya, Racetrack…" Spot said, his back still to his best friend. "An' maybe ya changed you'se mind an' ya don't like me, but I can't let ya go Race. No matter what I do, I jus' keep holdin' on to ya. An' I'm neva gonna stop," he took another deep breath before starting to walk away. But a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

He turned around to ask what he was doing, but he was stopped when soft lips crashed onto his own. As his brain caught up he started kissing back with a fever. Unlike their first kiss which was tentative and explorative, this one was desperate and messy. They're bodies came together, desperate for contact, to reassure each other that they were still there. Race's hands found their way around his waist, and Spot's own hands found themselves tangled in is hair.

"Sean," Race mumbled against his lips.

"I know," he mumbled back before breaking away. He held Race so that their foreheads were pressed together, not quite ready to separate. They just stood there for a couple minutes, breaths tangling together as they drank in each others presences.

"Promise me you'll neva let go," Race said finally.

"Anthony Racetrack Higgins, I promise ya, that I will neva... _neva_ let you go," he chuckled out breathily. After a few more minutes of silence he broke it once more. "We'se got papes to sell," he pulled away and smacked the other boy against the side of his head, effectively knocking off his hat.

Race nodded, but went in and for one last peck on the lips before he smiled sloppily at Spot. Something seemed different, and as Spot watched him for a moment, he realized that a small spark of that amazing life had come back to his lover's pure blue eyes. And as he jogged after the boy, he knew that while everything wasn't okay now, everything would be. He would hold on, and Race would do the same.

* * *

 **Thankyou so much for reading! If you saw the numbers by Race's italian, I have the translaions below! i am using google translate, so let me know if there is an error! Enjoy and leave me a comment on what you think!**

 **1) Oh god, please just let me die!**

 **2) God forgive me for my sins. Let my brothers know I love them, but don't let them mourn me. I'm not worth it.**

 **3) Why don't you just let me go?**

 **4) Please! He can't see me like this! He can't know!**

 **5) I said not to get him! I said no! I don't deserve this! I'm not worth it!**

 **Thanks guys!**


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